


The Best Advice from the Nineties

by wanderlustlover



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustlover/pseuds/wanderlustlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who else was he going to ask after the last decade really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Advice from the Nineties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alemara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alemara/gifts).



> No specific placement. Somewhere in Season Three. 
> 
> It's just been stuck in my head and seemed a good time to get it out.

"So." He put it simple and straight forward, where anyone else would have prompted the whole question. That neat, precise shift to the rise of his eyebrows, tensing the small space of skin between them.

"You're going to have to give me a minute," Cath said, dark eyes glinting and smile still brightening up her face like the beam of a skylight was trying to escape from all the edges of her face. "You can see the irony, right? That you're asking _me_ for my opinion on this, right?" 

"Cath." It would have sounded like the fire of a warning shot, if it wasn't for the drag in that last consonant. Where his patience was being tested, and his sense of humor had been banked about forty seconds back, but he needed an answer more than he could possibly just push himself up from the couch and walk away.

At least for now. She didn't question whether he could, and would, if she drug it too long out. Even a whole minute.

"Lemme pass along the best piece of advice given to girls from nineties." She couldn't have helped it. Honestly. 

He didn't shift. Not more than where his eyes were, and the press of his lips, but it was enough she knew she had all of his attention. That he'd probably been spinning this question all day, before deciding to ask. Which she was complimented it was her, getting asked, getting to watch him squirm. As much as he ever did. Who else was going to ask after the last decade really. 

Making it so she said, dry sarcasm and flip smile, "No one likes an uptight white chick, Steve." 

"I'm not the girl in this," Steve snapped, sending one of the couch pillows flying at her. 

Cath laughed, catching it easy. Smile wide and fondly wicked, while their movie played on entirely forgotten. Gave him the kind of playfully, heavy once over with her eyes that could only be given by someone who'd mapped every inch of what was behind those clothes for years. "No. That you certainly aren't. Neither is your boyfriend. But he found the balls to ask, so maybe you should find yours enough to meet him in the middle." 

"You'd do it, then?" He was still half caught in the distasteful from of her example, but the point stuck it seemed. 

"Why not," Cath shrugged and shifted down on the couch. Pushing her feet into his lap as the pillow caught in her hands was put between the arm of the couch and her head. Before she settled her hands on her stomach, looking at him from that halo of dark hair and straight forward eyes. "We did so many stranger things in the middle without even this much debate."


End file.
